Going The Distance

by Artemis Anders

  “Sure. Put him on.” Hannah smiled a little, picturing Asher gesturing at Diana to hand over the phone and Diana looking at him like he was crazy. It was so… them.

  “Hannah,” came Asher’s voice.

  “Hey, Ash. Thanks for everything last weekend. I was just telling D how amazing you were up on Spruce Pass—”

  “My pleasure. You rocked it. But that’s not why I stole the phone. Listen to me, okay? If that dude told you he doesn’t love you, he’s a fucking liar.”

  Hannah chuckled a little. “That’s sweet of you, but—”

  “No, sweetheart. No buts. That dude loves you and I could tell. He’s just got his head up his ass, and that’s not your fault. You’re the brave one. He’s the coward. Remember that, alright?”

  Before Hannah could answer, Diana was back. “I have to agree with Ash on this one.”

  The passionate votes of confidence from her friends did make her feel better. But she knew it wasn’t true. Cain didn’t love her. And even if he did, he clearly didn’t want to, or he wouldn’t have said that. “I appreciate the support, D, I really do. But if you saw how guilty he looked when he said it… he looked like a man looks when he has to say the thing that he knows will break your heart. And I’m done. With him, and with the idea that someone like me can have… what you have.” Hannah pinched herself to avoid crying.

  “Do not give up, Hannah. You can’t. You have no idea how big this is, sweetie. You opened your heart for the first time since I’ve known you, and I’ve known you since college. You let someone in, and he let you in, and it was a joy to watch. Everyone could see it. If you could see what I saw, you wouldn’t say those things. You finally let yourself love someone, and that’s a huge step for you. You took a chance on love, and just because it didn’t work out doesn’t mean it wasn’t worthwhile or that you won’t find it again. And don’t you dare rebuild that wall of yours. Because if you do, that’ll hurt you more, and you’ll end up dating more of those weak men who don’t understand you.”

  “All I want is to build that wall again, D.”

  “Yeah, because you’re raw and hurting. But that will pass. Don’t rebuild the wall. Just take some time to get some perspective on this.”

  Hannah nodded. She could do that. “Okay.”

  A couple weeks later, on Friday, Hannah gathered her camping gear and stuffed it all into her SUV. She drove over the Continental Divide and then south, taking the scenic route to her destination. A few hours later, she found a camping spot and set up her tent, then got dressed for a hike.

  After hiking up to a viewpoint, she took in the view of the San Juan Range. It too was part of the Colorado Rockies, but the rugged peaks looked different than what she was used to near home. Over the years, she’d learned that each mountain range had its own unique look and personality.

  Saturday morning, she dressed in warm layers and went to volunteer at the Wildflower 50, a 50-mile race where she would be responsible for checking in the racers and then manning an aid station all day. She was glad for the distraction. It had been three weeks since things ended with Cain. And while it still stung every time she saw anything that reminded her of him, which was almost everything, she’d finally passed the point where it made her want to cry.

  As she worked all day and watched the runners fly through—or in some cases, limp through—she once again felt inspired. Seeing them all and helping them in any way she could cleared her head. And finally, she allowed herself to think about the thing she’d avoided for a while.

  Cain.

  All of it.

  Their crazy first introduction on his doorstep. Their meeting again by chance at the Mile 80 medical tent. Their camping and backpacking, their separating and then reconnecting when Cain returned from deployment. Their relationship, and their spectacular journey together at High Peaks, followed by a spectacular breakup.

  Cain’s struggles. His quiet periods and sitting up nights, and how they’d improved with time. How she gave him space when he needed it, and spent time with him when he needed it. How she fed him dinner and roasted him marshmallows and poured him bourbon, and indulged his strange need to screw her outside in the wilderness, no matter how cold it was or how sweaty they were.

  And then there was everything he gave her. His wisdom about ultrarunning and goal setting. His taking her camping and even carrying her when she was injured. His unwavering care during her race. And his unconditional acceptance of her for who she was, while encouraging her to be the better person she was capable of being.

  Everything changed when she met Cain. She’d never cared if a guy worked too much or didn’t call… until Cain. She’d never missed a guy when he was gone… until Cain. She’d never wanted to get closer to someone… until Cain. And she’d never said “I love you” to any man…

  Until Cain.

  But he’d reached his limit. He couldn’t give her any more than he had. Part of her wished she didn’t want more, but she knew she did. And there was no way around that fact.

  She could resent him for that. She could be angry that he didn’t love her back. But she wouldn’t. Because in the end, Cain really had been the best thing that ever happened to her. Diana was right—she had opened her heart because of him. He’d taught her what it was to love.

  And even if Cain couldn’t love her the way she needed, he still gave her that gift. She’d always have that, no matter what.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hannah breathed in the fresh summer air, the wind kicking up suddenly and a shadow of darkness moving over her. She looked up; gray clouds had gathered out of nowhere. Fortunately, she was almost back from her run when the rain began to fall. Then her phone rang.

  Teagan.

  Hannah took a deep breath. It was only a matter of time until she got that call. Diana would have told Teagan what happened by now and Teagan would be calling to check in, knowing Hannah hid the sad truth for as long as she could.

  “Hi Teagan,” Hannah said, taking a seat on her porch so she could watch the rain fall.

  “Hey,” Teagan said, her voice sounding concerned.

  “Let me guess. D told you and you’re calling to check on me.”

  “Busted.”

  “I appreciate you calling, but I hope Diana filled you in because I can’t talk about it anymore.”

  “Okay…” she said hesitantly. “I was actually hoping you would talk about it at least a little. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Hannah raised her eyebrows. That didn’t sound good. “Okay…”

  Lightning flashed over Hannah’s neighborhood, followed by a crack of thunder.

  “Was that thunder?” Teagan said.

  “Yeah. I’m on my porch.”

  “Good. At least you’re safe. Anyway, yes, D told me what happened. And I’m sorry, Hannah. I really am. I told Aaron all about it. Aaron recognized that Cain might have PTSD or at least some residual effects from the trauma. He asked more about what happened to Cain and I said I didn’t know any more than what you told me. Well, Aaron knew about that incident—everybody did—so he did a little digging.” Teagan paused. “Hannah, what Cain told you is true, but he left out one important detail. One of the people who died that day… was Cain’s girlfriend.”

  A cold dread fell over Hannah. Then she closed her eyes, letting out a painful breath. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I take it he never told you?”

  “No.”

  Oh no.

  Suddenly, a flood of clues hit her. Cain’s avoiding women for so long. His wariness about getting too close. And his mentioning being happy when others didn’t get to be… he wasn’t just talking about watching his comrades die during the attack. He was talking about watching one specific comrade perish, one he’d loved.

  Hannah squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Hannah? Are you there?”

  “Yes,” Hannah said, her voice faint.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

&nb
sp; “I’m so sorry. I hate telling you this. But I thought you should know. It could explain a lot.”

  “Now I feel like the biggest asshole ever. I said some things to him, things I shouldn’t have said… fuck!”

  “No, Hannah. You didn’t know. And you didn’t know because he never told you the truth after all that time. You can’t get involved with someone for that long and hide something like that.”

  “Apparently you can.” Hannah sighed. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Then her phone beeped. When Hannah checked it, she saw that it was her mother calling.

  “Hey, Teagan, my mom’s calling and I need to pick up. I’ve been avoiding her.”

  “Okay. Call me soon, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Hannah switched over to her mother.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hannah, honey. How are you? How is your body healing?”

  “It’s healing. I’m still a little slow and stiff, but I can’t complain after what I put it through.”

  “Well, I’m impressed. You’ve always been so driven. When you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.”

  Yeah, too bad that doesn’t apply to my dumpster fire of a love life.

  “How are you?” Hannah asked.

  “Oh, fine. Your father is in L.A. on business again, and—”

  “Why do you stay with him, Mom?”

  It just came out of nowhere, like someone had removed what few remaining filters Hannah had and threw them away.

  Silence. Then, “I’m sorry?”

  “Why do you stay with Dad, when he’s a jerk and a cheat and a rat?” Hannah felt her emotions rise, and the words just tumbled out of her. “He’s cheating again, Mom! Tom told me at Christmas and that’s why I left so abruptly. I hate telling you this and I know it’s not my place, but I—”

  “I know, Hannah.”

  “It’s just that you have a right to know and—”

  “Hannah,” her mother said, her voice firmer now. “I know. I know about the affair.”

  Hannah stopped, wiping the tears from her face. “You do?”

  “Of course. I’ve known about all of them. Well, not the first one—that was a surprise—but the rest? I knew.”

  “Why do you stay with him?” Hannah cried. “He doesn’t appreciate you and I hate watching you suffer!”

  Her mom sighed. And in the same hardened voice, she said, “Hannah, your father isn’t perfect. I grant you that. But neither am I.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve had affairs too, honey. Lots of them. Not so much anymore, but before…”

  Hannah’s jaw dropped. Her mother had affairs??

  “Does Dad know?”

  “Yes. He looks the other way, just like I do.”

  Hannah sat there on her porch, goosebumps forming on her legs as the rain fell and chilled the mountain air. She shook her head. “I can’t believe this. Why the hell do you even bother staying together?”

  “For a lot of reasons. Because we have a life together. Because your father has as many good traits as bad ones. Because no marriage is perfect.”

  “Oh, come on! I’m a relationship idiot and even I know a marriage without serial cheating is possible!”

  “Of course it’s possible. But not for us.”

  Hannah shook her head again, hardly believing how different her mother sounded now. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be off the phone. “I can’t do this. I have to go—”

  “Hannah,” her mother interjected, sounding even firmer. “Listen to me. I know that watching what’s happened between your father and me has scarred you, and I regret that. But know this—just because our marriage is flawed doesn’t mean marriage isn’t worthwhile. And just because we fucked things up doesn’t mean you will too.”

  Hannah raised her eyebrows at her mom’s F-bomb. Claire Christiansen never said the F-word. Suddenly, she saw a new side of her mother that she’d never seen before. A version her mother had hidden from her all these years. A flawed version… but also a real version. A less vulnerable version.

  “It’s too late for me,” Hannah said quietly. “The only man I ever really loved doesn’t love me back.”

  “Then keep looking until you find one who does. Don’t hide your love, honey. Share it with the right man. And you’ll find him. You have a big heart, Hannah, no matter how hard you try to hide it behind that wall of yours. You have the biggest heart of all of us, and a strong independent streak, and that’s why you’ll make better choices than I ever did.”

  Hannah talked with her mother for a few more minutes before saying goodbye, then went inside to get cleaned up. In a pair of leggings and a tank, Hannah poured herself a bourbon and sat in her chair, watching the rain tumble to the ground. Her conversation with her mom had a strange effect on her, almost as if a burden had been lifted. A burden she hadn’t known she’d carried for so long. And then, her mind returned to Cain.

  Cain had loved someone. And he lost her in a traumatic, terrible way. On top of that, he felt at least partly responsible for her death, despite not being at fault. Coming to grips with losing his comrades was bad enough, and feeling like he couldn’t save them was even worse, but losing someone he loved and cherished too?

  It explained so much. For the first time, Cain’s strange behavior made complete sense. When he got redeployed, he had to face everything all over again. His love was gone forever… but those who knew her were not. And when he returned to Colorado, he’d tried to love Hannah, tried to let go… but he couldn’t. Her telling him she loved him, and forcing him to reply, only made that clearer to him. He’d loved someone else and lost her… and Hannah would never live up to that.

  The more Hannah thought about it, the worse she felt.

  Why, Cain? Why didn’t you tell me? God damn you!

  But Hannah’s anger faded as quickly as it came. Because she knew. She knew why Cain never told her the truth. He didn’t do it to be selfish, to be a jerk, or to hurt her. He hid the truth because he wasn’t the type to unburden himself on others. If anything, he carried the burden for others in his decision to serve in war zones, in his work as an E.R. physician. He worked to make others’ lives better. He’d shouldered her burdens for forty miles in the Colorado high country by holding her water, keeping her on track, and talking to her for endless hours. He’d made her life better in other ways, giving in his own way. He’d kept that key piece of info from her to protect her, to avoid laying his burdens on her, perhaps hoping that eventually his memories would fade. But they never did.

  It pained her that Cain didn’t return her love. But she couldn’t deny what he’d given her in the year they’d known one another.

  Hannah stood up. She couldn’t go on like this. She had to let Cain go, but she couldn’t do it without him knowing the truth. The full truth. All of it.

  Hannah found some paper and a pen, and sat down at her desk to write.

  Cain,

  I have so much to say. And I hope you’ll hear me out. I want to be Honest Hannah. But in a good way, not in a rude way.

  I know the truth. I know you didn’t just lose your comrades on that awful day two years ago. You lost the woman you loved. I found out through a military friend. At first, I felt angry that you didn’t tell me. Then I felt awful for the things I said when we talked for the last time. But those feelings passed, and then I saw the truth.

  You didn’t want to lay your burdens on me. You didn’t want to hurt me.

  I once remarked that you liked taking care of people, and you scoffed at me. I hit the nail right on the head, didn’t I? You put others first all the time, in your service and in your work and in your personal life, and maybe with me you could be yourself for once and not have to always do that. Until I demanded too much from you.

  I’m so sorry for your loss. I know that sounds trite, but I am. Losing you was hard enough, so I can only imagine what it was like to lose someone who didn’t want to be lost, who didn
’t choose that. She was someone you loved, who loved you, who you would be with right now if life wasn’t so fucking unfair.

  I’m so sorry for the things I said at your house. I would never have said them had I known the truth. I shouldn’t have said them anyway. I don’t always know the right thing to say or do; I’m not inexperienced with men, but I’m inexperienced at love. You’re the only man I’ve ever let close to my heart, who I let behind my wall. I liked that wall. It kept me safe. It ensured I never turned into my mother, a kind and beautiful woman married to a selfish cheater.

  But it turns out I was wrong about her. I was wrong about myself too. I thought I would never get close to a man, but I got close to you. I loved you. I know you can’t love me in return, and that’s okay because what you taught me was still invaluable.

  You taught me to listen to my body when I train. You taught me how to focus on the journey, not the goal. You taught me the value of bourbon. And to be in the moment during the most trying times, to focus on the beauty around me or the people who love me, rather than how sick or exhausted I felt. And how great it feels to do things for others, just to make them happy or make their life a little easier. You taught me how to love, even if you didn’t mean to. And there’s no better gift you could have given me.

  You changed everything for me. That’s what I meant when I said I loved you. I didn’t mean to burden you, or to hurt you or pressure you. I just wanted you to know that you’ve enriched my life just by being you, and now I’m a better person for it. That’s what you do for people, even if you’re too much of a stubborn bastard to admit it.

  I don’t expect anything from you, Cain. You can move on with your life however you choose. But I had to write you and tell you how I feel. I had to be Honest Hannah, who says what she feels, even when it means she looks like an idiot. I won’t hide behind a wall anymore.